


Love Hurts Less than Secrets do to Hide

by Nears_my_boytoy



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Character Death, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Reddie, Spoilers for Chapter 2, What Ifs, childhood flashbacks, my poor sweet children, pure angst, this fanfic was simply born from me wondering what Eddie's last thoughts were after Richie left him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 00:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nears_my_boytoy/pseuds/Nears_my_boytoy
Summary: Everybody knows that your life flashes before your eyes before you die, but what nobody tells you; is that so does the life you never lived.





	Love Hurts Less than Secrets do to Hide

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry lol this HURTS.  
Obviously don't read if you haven't seen chapter 2 yet. MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD. And also, I just saw the movie like 10 hours ago, so sorry if my details aren't quite right.

"I killed it! Richie, it's dead and I killed it!" 

Eddie didn't feel it at first, there was a sound out of his mouth that he didn't recognize, the lurching of his body, the look on Richie's face. The look was what scared him more than dying, seeing Richie looking at him like that, his blood splattered over his face. 

He didn't feel the splintering pain until It was lifting him from the limb it'd skewered him with. The pain was blinding, his breath left his body when he crashed against the rocky ground. He could certainly feel it now, the throbbing in his chest, right through to his back. That image of Richie with his blood splattered on his face kept replaying over and over in his mind. And all he could think with present urgency was; 'Richie! Where's Richie?' Had It gotten him after it'd thrown him away? 

But there he was, Richie, with blood still on his face. "Eds, are you okay? Are you okay?" 

He kept asking, like a mantra, Eddie didn't really think he was okay, but he kept nodding, sputtering; "Yeah, I'm okay." 

Richie lifted him onto his shoulders to carry him and it _hurt_ so bad, Eddie cried out and Richie muttered; "I know, I know, I'm sorry." And it was okay that Richie had him, lifted him somewhat easily, even in his ruffled state, because Eddie was so tiny for a man. He didn't feel annoyed like he knew he normally would, all he felt was blinding pain, the warmth of Richie's body against his, and in some ways that made the pain burn worse, and in some ways it calmed him.

He wanted to close his eyes, breath in Richie's smell, he smelled like grey-water, which was disgusting. But Eddie was _dying_, he knew he was, he didn't care about grey-water, or blood or sweat. Underneath it all, Richie smelled like detergent, as if he took his clothes straight from the washer, damp, and wore them, letting his body dry the clothes. He smelled like old spice, like _trying too hard_ old spice, he smelled like New York, like car fumes and airborne plastic, coffee beans and rain. He smelled like _Richie_, but he also didn't smell like Richie at all. He smelled like the last thing Eddie would remember smelling. 

Richie struggled to take him through the crack in the rocks faster than It could catch them. Pennywise, giant spider Pennywise. Somehow, Eddie had no fear left in him. Beverly and Bill helped him, with every move of his limbs, Eddie's chest screamed in protest. They set him down as gently as they could, Richie's hand on the back of his head, staying there, so he wouldn't lie on rocks. 

Richie, his adolescent curly hair and his gigantic lenses so big on his small face. His small hand, resting gently beside Eddie's knee, fingers grazing his skin when they twitched. Eddie didn't know why then, but he always sat beside Richie when the losers went to the movies, Richie, who always talked a big game but sunk into his chair during horror movies and slowly slid closer to Eddie. His hand always rested against Eddie's leg or his arm, sometimes their shoulders would touch, and Eddie wouldn't pull away, he enjoyed those odd moments where Richie would touch him, subconsciously, because the second Richie realized they were touching, he would pull away. And Eddie felt the emptiness where he'd grown warmer from Richie's skin. Richie was always warm. 

This felt so different now, Richie cradling the back of his head, looking back and forth between everyone else and him, _knowing_ he was cradling him, and not pulling away. Eddie couldn't hear what everyone was saying, could barely hear It smashing rocks to get to them. Everyone was panicked, Richie's eyes were wider than he'd ever seen them. Richie was murmuring something, to himself or to him, Eddie didn't know, his lips looked like "you're okay, you're okay." Eddie wanted to tell him that it was going to be alright, to comfort him, god, he looked so terrified. 

And then they were lifting him again, through a small entrance in the rock, the pain was dulling to an ache Eddie really had to concentrate to feel. He knew this wasn't a good sign, but he knew that Richie would think so, and he wouldn't scare Richie, he wouldn't tell him the truth, that he felt less and less blood bleeding into his shirt and he was on his way to gone. 

It became clear to Eddie then what was happening. They had snuck through the other side of the rock, they were going to leave Eddie slumped against the rocks and hope that he would be alive when they came back, if they ever came back. 

"Richie." Eddie said urgently, blood spurting from his mouth. It was hard to speak through the blood filling his lungs. "I have to tell you something." 

"What is it?" Richie's arms were straining, holding Eddie to slowly lay against the rocky surface underneath him. _An uncomfortable place to die. _The veins in his arms bulging under his skin. His hand was on the side of his neck. He was looking at him so delicately, like he was looking at a small child, his voice was so soft and tender. "What is it, bud?" 

Eddie paused. _Bud. _The names between friends, pals. It gave him pause that Richie would choose to call him that in a time like this. Did it still matter now, to him, that everything had to be under the premise of "no-homo?" 

_All the losers, in their fort underground. They all sat in a circle, Eddie remembering that his heart was hammering out of his chest. He looked at Richie, sitting beside him, and he was looking at Bev. She'd just taken her top off, she was dared to, by Richie, and he was watching her intently, his cheeks aflame. Eddie remembered thinking; 'I'm supposed to be getting a boner, right?' Everyone was blushing, he was too, he could feel the blood flooding to his cheeks, but that was all. And Richie, well, he looked smitten with Bev. And Eddie's stomach was churning. _

_"Alright, my turn," Bev said, never putting her top back on, sitting slouched in nothing but the plainest white bra Eddie had ever seen. "Richie, truth or dare?" _

_From the look in her eyes, you could tell she wanted Richie to pick truth. Bev was always the best with questions, and Richie was the best with dares. Richie never chose truth, same as Ben never chose dare. Eddie rarely chose dare either, but at least he did sometimes. _

_"Dare," Richie said, a fire in his eyes. _

_"I dare you and Eddie to kiss," Beverly said, earning a giggle from the rest of the losers. _

_Eddie felt his heart rush to his throat. They dared each other to kiss one another many times playing truth or dare, Beverly had kissed everybody, among other things, Stanley had kissed Bill, Bill had kissed Ben, Richie had kissed Bill, Eddie had kissed Mike, and so on and so forth. This was just a game to them, nobody really cared about kissing each other, other than Richie complaining about how gay it all was but nevertheless going through with his dares. And Eddie never felt anything before, so why was his heart about to fall out of his butt? _

_Richie was silent. Finally, he said; "Pass." _

_"You can't pass." Bev protested. And it wasn't like Richie to ever pass on a dare. _

_"Yes I can." Richie argued. His arms were over his chest. _

_Bill and Stan chimed in, saying no, he couldn't pass. Richie's face was so red. _

_"This is stupid." He said, getting up off the ground. Eddie felt where Richie's knee had been resting against his. "I'm not fucking gay, I'm not kissing Eds, that's disgusting." And he climbed out of the fort before anyone could say anything. _

_And Richie had gotten pissy about kissing the boys before, but he'd never gotten up and left. Everyone shrugged and continued the game with Bev asking Bill instead. _

_And Eddie felt like he had a gigantic hole opening up in his heart. _

'I love you.' Eddie wanted to say it, even "I love you, man" would suffice, so Richie wouldn't hate him for the rest of his life. He could hear it, _disgusting_ in his ears, the way Richie had said it, like Eddie was a plague that he was so terrified of catching, like he had already caught something that Richie was running from. 

But he couldn't do it, not with Richie looking at him so tenderly, he was so close, Eddie couldn't bear to see his face turn into disgust, looking at him like he was scum of the earth, how he'd instantly regret all those times he'd played with Eddie's fingertips as children or pinched his cheeks just because he could. 

And so, he said the only other thing he could think of. "I fucked your mom." He tried to laugh, like it was funny, like he wouldn't cry if he were left alone for one moment. Blood spilt from his lips as he did, his chest congested and he couldn't say anything more than that. Richie laughed the slightest bit, but he looked, disappointed, somehow. And while the others were sneaking past Pennywise, Eddie looked at Richie, his face so close to him, and he surmised that Richie had never looked so simultaneously disgustingly dirty and beautiful in his life. 

_Beautiful. _Eddie thought, a word you would use to describe a woman. But handsome didn't fit, Richie wasn't handsome. His hair was unruly and his face was prickly, he still had glasses that hid his eyes and his sense of fashion was still terrible as can be. But he was Richie, he looked like Richie, and he was beautiful. 

Richie was looking to his right, he wouldn't notice if Eddie lifted his hand. 'Look at me' Eddie thought, he tried to lift his hand, put it to Richie's cheek, turn his head towards him. But he was so weak, his limbs wouldn't respond to his brain signals, despite his urgency. 

Eddie could hear the screams of his friends, he could see Richie battling with himself, stay with him, or help his friends, the only way they could win is if he was with them. 

Nevertheless, Eddie thought, 'Stay, please stay.' If he could've spoken, he would've told Richie to go. 

Richie looked at him one last time, the fearful and somber look in his eyes ripped Eddie's heart in half. And then he got up from his knees in front of Eddie, and was gone. And Eddie knew that Richie expected he would be alive when he came back, and if Richie didn't come back, Eddie didn't want to be alive to know it. 

He was so tired, he wanted to close his eyes. Exhaustion dragged his eyelids closed, behind his eyelids he thought of Richie, he wanted to lift the sweater he'd hurriedly pressed to his wound, smell his scent, in that moment he wanted that more than he'd ever wanted anything. But he couldn't lift anything, and his blood soaked through his sweater, and Eddie thought to himself, how happy he was to be wearing Richie's sweater. 

_"Are you cold?" Richie asked. Bev lived her life as if she had never heard of a jacket, her arms constantly prickled with goosebumps, and yet she would always say that she was fine. Eddie thought it was because her dad could never buy her one. _

_"No," Bev said, predictably. Eddie was cold, though. He'd gotten dog shit on the end of his coat when he'd tied it around his waist, and upon discovering this, had promptly ditched it where the sewer would wash it up someplace else. _

_"I'll give you my jacket." Richie offered. Richie was always trying to impress Bev, be her knight in shining armour, everybody thought that he was just joking around, but it always gave Eddie a bad taste in his mouth. He rubbed his hands over his arms and tried to ignore their conversation. _

_Beverly didn't say anything back, and Eddie was curious, so when he looked over his shoulder, he saw that she was whispering something to him, her eyes were on Eddie. Eddie swiftly turned around and kept on walking. But then, he felt a sudden weight on his shoulders. He startled, looking up to see Richie. His eyes were averted, but he said "give it back tomorrow" and walked ahead. Eddie felt the jacket on his shoulders, engulfed in Richie's scent, and when he looked over again, Bev was smirking at him Eddie felt warmer then than he'd ever felt in his life. _

Eddie smiled, he couldn't feel the pain in his cheek any longer. He thought fondly of the memory, he wasn't dead yet, but he could feel he was fading. His vision was blurring. 

_He was fifteen. He lay back on his bed and closes his eyes, a nightly routine, he slips his hands down between his legs and feels gross and guilty when he does it but knows that he can't not do it. When he does he thinks of a face, his memory is hazy, and he can never remember who's face it is, who's curly hair and strong jaw, glasses bigger than his face, stupid unbuttoned Hawaiian shirts and straight teeth. He can't remember who this boy is that makes his dreams wet, and he never remembered. _

~~~

Richie stands in front of an old, rotting fence. His tears are streaming from his cheeks and he can't help it. Even as a child, he never cried, when Bowers called him a _faggot_ and boys pretended they never knew him if he grazed their hand just a little too long, when he thought of Eddie, and how disgusted he would be if he knew his secret, when Eddie's mother moved them away from him. Not a single tear shed. But now, standing here, 27 years later, all the tears he should've shed as a kid are streaming from his eyes all at once, and he can't see the shapes he carved long ago, but he can feel them with his fingertip. He has a pocket knife and he feels like if he doesn't carve these shapes in more, nobody will see them, nobody will know, and for the first time in his life, Richie wants _somebody_ to know. He thinks to himself that he doesn't want to ever forget Eddie again, he doesn't want anybody in this godforsaken town to stroll past this spot and ever forget that he was in love with Eddie Kaspbrak. 

_"I love you guys, y'know." It was Ben. _

_"Cut that gay shit out." Richie had said. If he used gay as an insult enough times, he thought that it would've lost the effect the word had when it was used on him. It never did. _

_"We love you too, Ben. Right guys?" That was Beverly, shooting Richie a glare. _

_"Yeah, we love each other. Friends love each other all the time." Bill said. And once Bill said something, everyone else inevitably agreed. _

_"I love you, Mike. Stan said to Mike. Richie thought someone would laugh, but nobody did. _

_"I love you, Bill," Mike said to Bill. _

_"I love you, Eddie," Bill said to Eddie. _

_And Eddie looked at Richie, and just with that shared look, Richie's heart was pounding all the way through his ears. _

_He didn't say anything for a beat, and then with the quietest tone Richie had ever heard out of him, Eddie said: "I love you, Richie." He couldn't look him in the eye, his cheeks were as red as the apple Richie had seen rotting on the sidewalk that morning. And when Eddie said that, Richie felt like he could've cried. _

_"I love you too, Eds." He said, smirking, trying to play it as cool as he could, because if Eddie knew what Richie was thinking when he said that, he would never hear those words from Eddie's mouth ever again. And he needed Eddie to love him, in any way that would be accepted, because that was the only thing that calmed Richie's mind before he slept at night. _

27 years later, Richie stood, thinking the same thing he had thought that day. 

_Would he hate me, if he knew? _

For so long, his whole life, really, Richie was so afraid of being hated, people will no doubt hate him if they knew. Comedy is the only real thing he knows that he's good at, and he could always make somebody at least _tolerate_ him by cracking jokes. This would change that, people will hate you, regardless of how funny you are. Would Eddie have hated him too? 

Or would he have accepted him? Better yet, might he have returned it? 

Richie, for the first time, allows himself to think of that possibility. It hurts that Eddie is dead, but he doesn't feel like he's tarnishing him somehow for thinking of it anymore. It's a painful thought to entertain, and maybe one day, he can go through with it. But for now, thinking that it was at least a little bit likely that Eddie would've accepted him the same brings him comfort. It is enough. 

Would Eddie still have loved him? 

Richie smiles through the tears as he finishes his carving. 

_Maybe. _

_Probably. _


End file.
